A Nation's Duty
by sodelucius
Summary: Things were a lot less complicated when people got their news by post and commuted on horses. / Canon-verse. Rated M because nations go through some tough stuff.


Days were busy, filled with things to do and ways to keep his mind running at full speed. Nights were slow, a few hours of peace and quiet and no way to keep his mind from wandering too far.

It wasn't like he wasn't grateful for the breaks. Being able to lounge around in his underwear in his cramped apartment from two in the morning to five was great; there were some nations Alfred knew got close to no time for rest, so he wasn't about to take his time for granted. But it was in the quiet, in the dark, where Alfred found himself tracing his timeline, his fingers tracing the leather of his couch and his feet brushing the cold wooden floor that brought him back from his memories when he found himself getting overwhelmed.

The hours would pass quickly, blurred with unhealthy snacks and the glow of his television, and then he'd be back at it again, hurriedly shrugging on his coat as he stuffed an egg sandwich into his mouth, and then out the door he'd go, briefcase clutched in one hand as he took the steps two at a time and tried to not embarrassingly choke on his breakfast and trip down the stairs.

And then the days were filled with meetings and briefings and press events and everything in between, and Alfred would take a moment in all the chaos that was his job, his duty, to look up at the sky and thank whatever higher power there was that he didn't need sleep to function like humans. And following that he'd take a moment to reflect on what he'd just thought (-humans? _Humans?_ Wait, that's right, he wasn't a human, was he-) and hurry along to whatever was next on his schedule. Maybe he'd be taking a plane out to SHIELD (someday, _someday_-), or an almost three-hour car ride to Philadelphia, or hell, maybe he'd just have to stand around in the Oval Office and pose for pictures with his boss.

Things were a lot less fucking complicated back in the days where people got their news by post and commuted on horses.

* * *

Alfred's head jerked up as the sound of his cellphone ringing brought him out of his doze. He reached for his phone, barely remembering to press the answer button as he brought it up to his ear. "'Fore you start yellin', lemme just say I'm workin' on the damn paper and I'll have it done by t'morrow, alright?" he grumbled, slamming his laptop shut as he started to get up from his seat. "You breathin' down my neck don't exactly make me want to work any faster, Pfeiffer."

"Pfeiffer?" said the voice on the other line, sounding amused. "Honestly, America, you should look at the caller ID before assuming who's calling you."

Letting out a disgruntled grunt, Alfred pulled the phone back to glance at the name on the screen. "Ah, shit. Sorry, Arthur," he said, bringing the phone back to his ear.

"England."

"Mm. Formalities today, huh?" Cradling the phone between his shoulder and head, Alfred began to load his laptop and paperwork into his briefcase, a grin slipping onto his lips. "If you were just callin' to chat, _England_, I gotta tell ya I really don't got any time for that."

Arthur chuckled. "Yes, I could very well tell. I was actually calling to remind you about the upcoming World Meeting." A pause. "You do remember where it's being held, don't you?"

"No, I actually don't." Alfred scoffed, taking the phone back into his hand, and his briefcase into his other. "Yes, of course I do! It's at Young-Soo's place, _duh_. I already got my flights scheduled an' everything. You stopping anywhere?" He looked over his desk, peeked underneath it, and after making sure he hadn't accidentally forgotten anything, headed for the door. Nudging it open and closed with his foot, he hurried down the hallway, intent on getting to his favorite diner before the lunch rush began.

"Full flight for me. I'm not to keen on getting my timezone mixed up before getting to my destination..." There was a clicking noise in the background, followed by the rustling of papers. "Why, do you have a layover?"

"Yeah, just over an hour in San Fran," Alfred said, not sounding too happy. "I would've preferred just a non-stop flight, but Obama's using the big one and I'm not really allowed in any of the other jets." He pushed a side door open with his shoulder, emerging out into the fresh air and sunlight. "And don't even _ask_ about why I'm not allowed," he added in, making Arthur chuckle again.

"I could always ask Canada. I'm sure he'll spill the beans. Anyways-"

"Wait, what? Dude, no, don't ask him! He doesn't even know, and you know how he gets when he finds out I'm keeping a secret from him-!"

"-_Anyways_, America... Since you're busy, I won't keep you any longer," Arthur said, his tone carrying through the stern expression Alfred assumed he had on his face. "I have some paperwork to get to myself, anyways. Talk to you in Seoul, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. See ya then."

The call finished, Alfred slipped his phone into the pocket of his jacket and broke out into a light jog. He could practically smell the burger he'd been waiting all week for. It was almost noon, and rush hour tended to start around one, so keeping in mind the half hour it normally took him to get to the diner, there was no real reason to rush.

Or so he thought.


End file.
